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Charging an army, while
All the world wonder'd :
Plunged in the battery-smoke
Right thro' the line they broke;
Cossack and Russian
Reel'd from the sabre-stroke
Shatter'd and sunder'd.
Then they rode back, but not
Not the six hundred.
Cannon to right of them,
Cannon behind them
Volley'd and thunder'd; Storm'd at with shot and shell,
While horse and hero fell,
They that had fought so well Came thro' the jaws of Death Back from the mouth of Hell,
All that was left of them,
Left of six hundred.
When can their glory fade ?
All the world wonder'd.
Honour the charge they made ! Honour the Light Brigade,
Noble six hundred!
ODE SUNG AT THE OPENING OF
IPLIFT a thousand voices full and
In this wide hall with earth's inven
And praise the invisible universal Lord, Who lets once more in peace the nations meet,
Where Science, Art, and Labour have outpour'd Their myriad horns of plenty at our feet.
O silent father of our Kings to be
The world-compelling plan was thine,-
Brought from under every star,
The works of peace with works of war.
O ye, the wise who think, the wise who reign,
with all her flowers.